


Kill Of The Night

by Uchihas_rose



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Assisted Suicide, Blood, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Crack Relationships, Dubious Content, I am maybe sorry, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Magnussen is a creep, Mental Instability, Mental Torture, Plot Twist, Psychological Torture, REALLY DUBIOUS, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sadism, Suicide By Proxy, Violence, Why Did I Write This?, and I thought The Cost of A Crown was a piece of shit, and a piece of shit, but the bad kind, even for me, not a threesome but there is no tag for just Sebastian and Magnussen, the really bad kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28671852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uchihas_rose/pseuds/Uchihas_rose
Summary: Sebastian wants to die. Magnussen is willing to be of assistence - but to his own terms.
Relationships: Charles Augustus Magnussen/Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty, Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Kill Of The Night

_A light at the end of the tunnel._

Ironically, that was Sebastian’s first thought when he stopped his bike at the driveway and stared at the house, which offered the only source of light for miles.

He had been expecting him, of course – he could see the dark silhouette standing in the open door. Sebastian did his best to stifle a dark, humourless chuckle as he looked back down the dark road which had led him to this place. An old force of habit – always making sure he wasn’t being followed, always weary of his surroundings. It was not much of a surprise; his life had been depending on constant vigilance for far too long. But it would not be needed anymore.

The light at the end of the metaphorical tunnel promised no hope, no salvation. It wasn’t a mark of angels descending from Heaven – or in his case, the Devil, coming to claim his soul.

Sebastian felt his heart beating calm and steady against his chest. He wasn’t afraid of this man, even though he never felt at ease around him. But, to be honest, who really felt at ease anywhere near Charles Augustus Magnussen?

Slowly, he removed his helmet, exhaling deeply. He could still go. Magnussen would be furious, of course, but what could he possibly do about it? He could still change his mind.

He paused, thinking of the life that was lying behind him. The second most dangerous man in London, right-hand man to the most dangerous criminal the world had ever seen, the best heavy-game shot the Eastern Empire had ever produced… _And lover to said criminal, even if that idiot had nothing better to do but to blow his own brains out._

What had Jim expected? That he’d just run the Firm as if nothing had happened? That the criminal empire Jim had been leading wouldn’t start crumbling and falling to shreds after his death? Did he expect Sebastian to _live_ in a world where he was dead, _live without him_?

He stared at the silhouette waiting in the doorframe, the light reflecting off the spectacles. _Of all people…_ But who else could he ask to do it? He is unable to touch his own guns right now and unless he gets a hold of himself, the world will spread and destroy the last reputation the Firm has left.

No, there is no one else he could have possibly asked to do it, to do what he is unable to do himself, because his fingers won’t stop shaking each time he picks up the damn gun. He could have gone to Mycroft – but Mycroft’s methods are sickening him to his stomach. That bloody reptile, probably would’ve sent him straight back to the Army or locked him at Sherrinford or whatever little torture chamber he could’ve come up with.

Mycroft would have never killed him – he is too calculating, too cold for that and Sebastian would rather die than start working for the Iceman at some point. That would not have been in anyone’s interest. He would have never start working for Mycroft Holmes and his life belongs to one man, and one man only. Sebastian was no whore looking for a new pimp after the old one was gone. He didn’t need any money; he made more money working for Jim than he could have spent, even with his gambling habits. He did not care about the money, especially not now. It would rot on the bank, probably, there wouldn’t be anyone to claim his earnings after tonight.

Exhaling deeply, Sebastian climbed down from the bike and made his way to the door, to the waiting silhouette in front of it. He could see the man smile and his stomach coiled. For a moment, he wondered whether it really had been such a good idea…

Well, it wasn’t like he had much of a choice, right?

Magnussen opened his arms as if to embrace him, his glasses reflecting the light. Sebastian could feel his stomach coil, as it always did in the presence of that man. What had he been thinking, asking Magnussen of all people? That man had given him the creeps every bloody time he had encountered him. Why, of every person in the world, did he need to be the one?

“Colonel”, Magnussen greeted him, his voice unnaturally warm. Magnussen’s voice has always been unnaturally warm for a man as cold and calculating as him. Often, Magnussen has reminded Sebastian of a very bad caricature between Jim and Mycroft. There aren’t many things that scare him, but Charles Augustus Magnussen? That man definitely was in the top spot on the list, beating even Augustus Moran.

For a moment Sebastian feared Magnussen was going to hug him when he walked up to the other man, but Magnussen just kept smiling and stepped aside to let Sebastian in.

Sebastian had been inside Appledore before, on the rare occasions on which the Napoleon of crime and the Napoleon of blackmail had met face to face and he had never liked this place. The few furniture in the house were all designer products, but it did nothing to make the house look anymore inviting. The bright lamps, the white walls and the almost sterile cleanliness always made Sebastian thought of a medical laboratory or a dentist practice. He avoided both places as best he could.

Magnussen shut the door behind him. He didn’t lock it, Sebastian noticed – and why should he? Sebastian had nowhere to run and he was not going to change his mind.

“Let me take your jacket”, the Danish’s voice sounded behind him and without his willing, the hairs on Sebastian’s neck started to prickle. Slowly, Sebastian slid off the leather jacket, watching Magnussen add to his own on a hook near the door.

“You can go right ahead”, the other man added, when Sebastian didn’t move, the ghost of a smile curling his lips, “there is an armchair prepared in living room. Be so kind and take your shoes off first, though.”

Sebastian did as he was told, grateful for the floor heating system Magnussen had at Appledore. The tiles underneath his feet were almost comfortable.

After the floor tiles came the white wooden floor of the living room and a soft, white fur rug Sebastian had no doubt was real and probably from a species which was either on the brink of extinction or already gone from the earth.

In the centre of the living room waited a comfortable looking leather armchair, next to a metal tray which did nothing to ease Sebastian’s sensation of a medical lab. For a moment he wondered if an execution by lethal injection looked similar to this – minus the comfort and luxury, of course.

“Take off your shirt and have a seat”, Magnussen breathed on Sebastian’s neck and he flinched involuntarily, not having heard or noticed the other closing in on him. Sebastian grinded his teeth, fighting the urge to bring down his fist on the Magnussen’s face. He prided himself on his heightened senses – Magnussen sneaking up on him like that brought back unpleasant military flashbacks. It made no difference, he decided. Matter of fact, it was only fitting. Letting the enemy breathe down on your neck had meant certain death in India – and Magnussen knew that; Sebastian knew he did. It was nothing but powerplay, satisfying the creep’s sadism, reminding him that his death was inevitable.

Supressing a shudder, Sebastian obeyed; slowly unbuttoning the shirt while Magnussen continued to breathe on his neck, causing the hairs there to rise slightly. Sebastian didn’t turn toward the other man, not wanting to see that smirk on Magnussen’s lips. His dog tags tingled quietly when settling on his now bare chest and this time, Sebastian flinched as the cold plagues hit his skin. He fought the urge to grasp his hands around them like he always did. Magnussen was a feral beast – you did not show such a creature your fear.

Keeping himself as straight as possible – his muscles tightening slightly in the process – Sebastian walked the few steps towards the armchair and sat down slowly, knees almost touching, hands resting on his thighs. His heart was drumming against his ribs and Magnussen’s knowing smile made him almost fear he could hear it.

How was Magnussen going to do it?, he wondered. Would he shoot him? Sebastian had watched and executed more than enough executions; the thought of facing a bullet to his brain did not terrify him as long he did not have to pull the trigger. It would be a fitting end to his career as a former Colonel and professional sniper.

But the tray bore no weapon. Just a glass, a bottle of whisky and a syringe. Maybe it would be like an American execution, after all. What did they use again? Some form of Chloride?

Magnussen followed him and rested a cold hand on Sebastian’s while pouring two fingers of whisky into the glass and pressed it against Sebastian’s lips; the nails digging painfully into Sebastian’s skin when he tried to take hold of the glass, so he let Magnussen do it, swallowing the golden liquid slowly, wondering if it was poisoned.

In a way, he was right about it – it didn’t take long until the drugs mixed into the whisky took place and Sebastian glared at Magnussen, as well he could when his eyes were becoming all droopy.

“Wha-?”, he slurred, his tongue lolling around in his mouth.

“A muscle relaxant”, Magnussen’s voice sound softly through the fog clouding his head, “nothing bad, Colonel, just a precaution…”

_A precaution…_

What would Magnussen need a precaution for? Sebastian had agreed to let Magnussen end his life, why would he be so worry that he needed to knock Sebastian down?

Something tightened around his upper arm; he spotted something black with a glistening silver square – _a belt?_

If Magnussen intended to inject some lethal cocktail into his veins, why would he need to-

Realisation pierced his fogged brain like lighting, and he tried to scramble up from the armchair, but his legs were numb.

_Magnussen was going to bleed him out._

That piece of shit would drain him of blood, like a pig during slaughter, only that the pig was granted the “humanity” of a clear throat-slashing, so it’d die fast.

This, Sebastian knew, wouldn’t be fast.

Magnussen’s face was close to Sebastian’s, so close Sebastian saw his own reflection in the rimless glasses. He was smiling, not taking his eyes off Sebastian.

“Ah…”, he said in a quiet, almost gentle voice, “enlightenment dawns… I promised you death, Sebastian – you don’t mind calling you that, do you? – but I never promised it would be quick…”

The warm breath hit his face and the soft smile caused Sebastian’s stomach to revolt. Magnussen lifted a hand to Sebastian’s cheek and stroked it, caressing the skin.

“Beautiful”, he purred throaty, before his gaze wandered shamelessly over Sebastian’s bare chest, lingering on the fine white scars at Sebastian’s lower abdomen and the smile became broader.

Sebastian didn’t need to force his eyes down to know what amused the other man – three letters, artistically carved into his skin with a knife.

_JCM._

_James Ciaran Moriarty._

Magnussen met Sebastian’s eyes again, the smile changed to a mocking smirk.

“Possessive, wasn’t he? So unwilling to share his favourite toys – and always taking it so personally if his obsession did not return the feeling… What good did it to him in the end? His obsession was the death of him, eventually, and his _toy_ , well…”

Magnussen traced Sebastian’s lips with the tip of his little finger.

Sebastian’s muscles were shaking under his forcefulness to fight the relaxant and punch Magnussen’s teeth out of his smirking mouth. He had no right to talk about Jim in that manner; he didn’t want to hear Jim’s name out of that mouth at all, in that sharp accent.

Magnussen watched the silent struggle in amusement, while he kept invading Sebastian’s personal space, lifting his chin with a finger to inspect him.

“Yes, he really had an eye for beauty… Of course, beauty is a matter of perspective, but I do understand what he saw in you – even you did not share his intellect, but, let’s be honest, there are few who do… But that did not matter with you, did it, Sebastian? I have always wondered what James saw in you beside that wilful, stubborn man who had gotten lost in the world. Why he decided to save _you_ of all people when we both know he was the curse rather than the salvation… I am being so superficial and bold as to say that he did nor purely hire you because of your skill with a gun. He favoured pretty things just as much as things useful to him and you, my dearie, you were just… _perfect._ A masterpiece.”

Magnussen was leaning close to him now, his breath tickling Sebastian’s ear as he whispered.

“I would have loved to spent more time with him, but he was always so _professional_ about everything. Yes, he kept his secrets well-guarded, dear James, but everything can be bought. Everything has a price, and he had such a talent at making enemies…”

Something wet touched Sebastian’s ear, slowly licking the auricle.

Sebastian’s jaw tensed slightly.

_Shut up_ , he wanted to yell, _shut the fuck up, you have no right to talk about him, this is not what we agreed!_

He couldn’t do anything but sit, like a perfect porcelain puppet, waiting for the end to come.

“Now…”, Magnussen’s fingers grabbed Sebastian’s wrist and traced the veins up his arm, “let’s begin, shall we? You came here for a reason after all… Though I do wonder – what would James say if he could see you like that? I think he would beg me to let him switch places with you; people get so sentimental about their pets…”

The belt caused his veins to peak out perfectly, Sebastian had always been told by doctors he had good veins, beautiful veins. He never considered it a compliment.

Magnussen smiled at him, before he pressed his lips against Sebastian’s, kissing him, forcing his tongue down his mouth. Sebastian gagged, but Magnussen didn’t care. _Why would he?_

He never noticed the needle sliding into his arm – Magnussen did a good job distracting him with the kiss. Only when Magnussen released him and that too familiar, hated smirk appeared on his face again did Sebastian force his eyes to look down his arm.

It was no different from having blood drained by the doctor – except there were no small plastic cups to catch the blood but a long translucent plastic tube leading to a bucket.

Magnussen noticed his look and shrugged, almost apologetically.

“You do have beautiful veins. It’s almost a shame to pierce them after you’ve taken such good care of them…”

Sebastian just stared at Magnussen, not knowing what he was supposed to say. He had been expecting many things but this? This was just… _sick._

Magnussen watched him lovingly, slowly licking his lips.

“Don’t be worried. I will take _very_ good care of you. Just like he did.”

“… Don’t”, Sebastian managed to say, slowly shaking his head, “don’t you… _dare_ … talk about him.”

Magnussen’s pale eyes glistened, and Sebastian knew he had made a mistake. He had only encouraged Magnussen.

“And who is going to stop me? You?”, Magnussen laughed, invading Sebastian’s personal space once more, using his knee to force Sebastian’s legs apart, while he cupped Sebastian’s face.

“No, he really did not want to share you… But he’s dead now, isn’t he? I’ve been _really_ looking forward to a private meeting, Sebastian. It was almost too easy – after all, you came into this trap all willingly…”

Hands, on his cheeks, falling to his throat, tracing his clavicles. The touch was gently, like a lover’s, like _Jim’s_ had been, like Magnussen’s wasn’t supposed to be, _mustn’t_ be.

Sebastian flinched, tried to shy away from those hands that were touching his chest now, but his body refused to obey him.

“Drink”, Magnussen commanded gently, filling the glass again, forcing the whisky down Sebastian’s throat once more, “it’ll make it so much easier when you just drink…”

_The whisky_ , Sebastian thought, _that muscle relaxation shit must be in the whisky…_

It almost wounded him that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy this last drink because that creepy, weird-ass fucker had drugged the whisky.

“If it makes it any easier”, Sebastian barely reacted when Magnussen removed the needle and punctured the vein in a different spot, “you can pretend I am him. Sooner or later the blood loss will weaken you so much that you’ll start hallucinating… I am not a monster, tiger…”

That was too much. Hearing Jim’s nickname for him from Magnussen’s lips forced Sebastian’s body up as if he’d been electrocuted. His fingers open and close, searching for Magnussen’s throat but catching nothing except air before he collapses back in the armchair and watches the bucket steadily fill with his blood – a gruesome clock that is telling him how much time he has left to life. _Jim would have loved it._

Magnussen laughed again, amused by Sebastian’s outburst.

“The things I could do to you”, he said, pressing his thumbs on Sebastian’s wrists, “the things I _will_ do to you… I do wonder – would you let James do them to you?”

Sebastian wanted to spit, curse, scream, but nothing but a quiet growl left his lips – the first attempt of a kitten’s hiss, incomparable to the mighty tiger’s roar he had originally intended.

Magnussen was kissing him again, stroking Sebastian’s neck and shoulders and every touch burned on Sebastian’s skin like a nettle. He flinched, shying away from the touch, until he caught the glimmer in Magnussen’s eyes and his mind froze as if Magnussen had drugged it just as easily as his body.

_He is provoking you. He is doing it on purpose; he_ wants _you to struggle away from him. He gets off on that. All of this is provocation, the touching, the kissing... The talk about Jim._

And it was working. Even with the knowledge of Magnussen’s intentions it was impossible for Sebastian not to react to it and Magnussen took some sick, perverted pleasure from it.

The problem was that Sebastian couldn’t even be furious about it. Magnussen read people like books and used their weaknesses to reach his own gains, satisfy his own needs. It was no different from what Jim had been doing. With the small, but important difference that Jim, while openly flirting whenever he felt like it, never actually crossed the line between flirting and sexual assaults.

Why should Sebastian be bothered by it, though? In a few hours, he’d be dead anyways and the dead told no tales. At least he wouldn’t.

Magnussen pressed a button at the side of the armchair and the back lowered itself slowly, until his face loomed over Sebastian’s and he felt the other’s weight on him. Sebastian found himself much less surprised than Magnussen probably anticipated.

The man’s hands wrapped around Sebastian’s tags, pulling him up to Magnussen’s face and then the lips were on Sebastian again, moist, thick. For a moment Sebastian was almost glad Magnussen was bleeding him out. He wouldn’t give that nasty shark the pleasure of an erection.

The lips stopped molesting his mouth to slide deeper, over his neck, leaving traces of saliva in their wake, before attacking again, sucking on his Adam’s apple and despite his insides coiling in disgust, Sebastian moaned. Just one short, quickly stifled moan, but nonetheless treacherous and in Magnussen’s eyes flashed triumph. His knee rubbed against Sebastian’s crotch.

“Yes”, he whispered, almost breathless with excitement, “I’d been meaning to collect you from the very first time I set my eyes on you, but dear James was _such_ a buzz kill... Never letting anybody else play with his toys. But now he’s gone and you, my dear, dear Sebastian, are going to be all mine. _For the rest of your life._ ”

He chuckled, a hoarse, raspy sound breaking from his chest and out of his mouth.

Sebastian willed his blood to flow faster, to put an end to it, before Magnussen could turn even more creepy maniac than he already was.

“I do not intend to rape you”, Magnussen continued, his voice almost cheerful, “not yet, anyways. There wouldn’t be much pleasure in it, no... I am going to save that until you are on the very brink of death. I want to _feel_ the life leaving your body, Sebastian, when I cum.”

Sebastian tried to scream and retch at the same time. Neither of it worked. He felt the hair rise all over his body. And Magnussen _smiled_ and Sebastian knew this smile would be the last thing he’d see in the world of the living.

Fingers and lips continued to glide over his body, exploring it, touching him almost everywhere. Sebastian didn’t move until Magnussen’s lips paused at the scars Jim had left on his body and started sucking on them, attempting to cover them up with a hickey.

“Don’t!”, Sebastian growled, trying to flinch away, “don’t you fucking dare! You have no right!”

He tried to punch him, using the arm where the needle wasn’t sticking out like a grotesque accessory. It had changed places once again; by the end of it, Sebastian was sure he would be looking like someone with a lifetime addiction to heroine.

Magnussen withdrew and tilted his head slowly, bemused.

“Easy, tiger”, he said and Sebastian wanted to grab him by the hair and crash his head against the glass of the living room table, until those bloody spectacles shattered and pierced Magnussen’s eyeballs, blinding him, “it’s not going to hurt. Not much”, he added with a pleasureless grin.

“You’re a sick fucking bastard!”, Sebastian snarled, “this is not what we agreed on! I asked you to kill me, not to…”

Magnussen stuffed a fabric handkerchief into Sebastian’s mouth and sighed.

“My apologies, my dear. I would have loved to hear you moan and whimper, but your constant nagging and complaining just won’t do. You asked me to kill you and I _will_ – but we never agreed on anything else. Nothing in this world is for free, Sebastian, and when I have to extinguish that precious life of yours, I may as well have some fun in doing so, don’t I? What do you care, anyways? I keep my promises, rest assured – you _will_ be dead by the end of the night. I have not charged you any money, but I certainly did not agree to kill you out of collegial _duty_ to late James. You named your desire, and you shall have it, but I make the price and my price is _you._ ”

Sebastian watched what remained of his life – _his suffering_ – pouring out of his body into the bucket and didn’t quite know whether he wanted to stop it or not.

Magnussen stroked his cheek.

“It will get easier, tiger. Soon, your body is going to weaken and you just won’t fight it anymore. Maybe you’ll even enjoy it.”

Sebastian remained quiet – not that he could’ve said much with that ball of fabric in his mouth. He decided that reacting to anything Magnussen said was just playing into his hands. He tried to tune out whatever the other man was cooing about and focused on something else instead, like the ticking of the great clock on the wall, which counted down the seconds that Sebastian had left with merciless steadiness. How tiresome it was. How annoying.

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

_Tickticktickticktick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

_Tick._

His eyes opened slowly, weakly. Had he fallen asleep? If yes, how long? How much time had he left? His body felt so weak, so strange… There was a ringing in his ears and he shook his head to get rid of it.

Heavy… Everything felt so heavy. A faint groaning sounded through the ringing and he felt cold. Why was he so cold?

Forcing his eyes to remain open, Sebastian looked around and saw another person looming over him.

Hot breath hit his ear, followed by a groan and his body shook in a steady rhythm.

“Tell me”, the mouth near his ear whispered, the voice shaking in barely concealed excitement, “just tell me, before you die. I’ve always wondered… Did you fuck him or did he fuck you? Did you take turns? I presume you did, you’re much looser than I expected…”

_No… This can’t be happening… This is wrong. Jim? Where are you?_

He wanted to scream when reality and memory return his mind, but his body was too weak to do anything. Magnussen’s breath felt too warm against his cold skin.

He was freezing – and judging by Magnussen’s action and earlier words, Sebastian must be close to death. He should just close his eyes again… It would make things so much easier if he just… closed his eyes again and never opened them again. At least it would be over soon.

_Jim…_ , Sebastian thought, over and over again, _Jimjimjimjimjimjimj-_

He never heard Magnussen’s triumphant groan, never felt the other man biting down on his neck in ecstasy.

All he saw was the familiar face and he smiled, trying to stretch out his hands to reach him. Something was wrong, though…

_His face. Jim’s face. Wrong._

It wasn’t supposed to be twisted all up in cries and pain, was it? And he wasn’t supposed to feel Jim’s tears on his cooling skin, was he?


End file.
